


Someone's Howling, Screams Like Sighing with Battered Breath

by OverlyCheerfulRat



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Bed-Wetting, Disabled Character, Domestic Violence, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, M/M, Unhappy Ending, Verbal Humiliation, Wetting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:07:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22761454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OverlyCheerfulRat/pseuds/OverlyCheerfulRat
Summary: Trapped in an abusive marriage, Bard tries to see Thranduil as "just a friend".
Relationships: Bard the Bowman/Thranduil
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	Someone's Howling, Screams Like Sighing with Battered Breath

**Author's Note:**

  * For [realisations](https://archiveofourown.org/users/realisations/gifts).



Maybe it was because he was so desperate for love after his wife died. There had to be a reason he'd missed the warning signs, and that was the only one that made sense. Bard remembered the night he met Smaug, a cold winter night two months after her death. He'd been in the convenience store parking lot, starting to walk back home, when a stranger's car pulled up next to him. The driver's window rolled down and a kind voice asked, "Do you need a ride? It's freezing out here."

Bard hesitated, shivering. Normally he'd say no, but he needed to get home quickly. He'd gone to the store to get medicine for Tilda's cold, and he spent the whole time worrying she'd develop a fever or something while he was gone. "If it's not any trouble," he finally said awkwardly. "No trouble at all," the stranger reassured him. Bard got in, thanking him profusely, and gave him directions to his street. The ride was only about six or seven minutes, and when it ended the man scribbled down his phone number on a napkin. "My name's Smaug Golde," he said with a grin. "You'll have to give me a call sometime."

A few days later, Bard had done so, and for the first few months their relationship was perfect. The first hint that Smaug wasn't as kind as he seemed came the first time they spent the night together; something Bard had known was probably a bad idea. He'd had a bedwetting problem his entire life, which his wife had never cared about. He told her before they slept together- they'd been teenagers then- and had fully expected her to dump him on the spot, but to his surprise she just kissed his cheek and said it wasn't his fault.

Smaug was different. After they had sex, Bard had moved to get out of bed, and the older man reached out to lightly grasp his wrist. "Where are you going?" Bard swallowed, the old fear trickling down his neck again. He hesitated a second too long, causing Smaug to prompt, "Bard?" "Overactive bladder," Bard responded stupidly. "I mean, I have. Um- I just, it's a medical... Istillwetthebed," he mumbled quickly, looking at the wall as his face burned. There was silence for a moment, then Smaug sat up and wrapped his arms around him. "That's fine," he murmured in his ear. Bard relaxed against him, flooded with relief.

But as he took a pull-up out of the dresser drawer, he happened to glance back at Smaug and see his face twisted in complete, utter disgust. The expression was only there for a moment, then replaced by an exhausted calm, making Bard wonder if he'd just imagined it. After a year together, he forgot that night. When Smaug proposed, his only reservation was the thought of what his children would think. Bain and Sigrid didn't like Smaug, and they certainly wouldn't appreciate him taking their mother's spot.

Eventually, though, they got married. Tilda was delighted to be the flower girl, and her siblings didn't protest. "Whatever makes you happy," Sigrid had sighed when Bard told her. For almost exactly two months, everything was perfect. It all started to fall apart on the highway, on the way back from a trip to a nearby farm. The children were in the backseat, asleep, and Smaug was humming along to the radio. They were an hour from home when Bard felt a sharp pain in his lower abdomen and visibly flinched- it didn't happen as often as it used to, but there were still times when he got desperate very, very suddenly.

"Smaug," he said quietly, trying not to wake the kids. "Can you pull over?" His husband looked at him curiously, taking notice of his tightly crossed legs. "There's no rest stops-" "I'll go in the woods, I don't care, I just need to go now," Bard said in a near-panic. Smaug raised an eyebrow, and the younger man stumbled over his words in his rush to explain himself. "Sometimes this... you know I... please, honey, I can't hold it," he confessed in a strained whisper. Smaug's upper lip curled, and he shook his head, turning back to the road. "There's a gas station a mile ahead," he said coldly. "We can stop there."

Bard wanted to say he couldn't wait that long, but how pathetic would he sound then? What kind of adult couldn't wait two minutes? He held himself tightly, bouncing his leg and constantly adjusting position, but after only a couple moments he felt himself lose control. Covering his mouth, he watched in mortification as his jeans and the car seat darkened, tears welling up. "I'm so sorry," he whispered to his husband, trembling very faintly. Smaug didn't respond.

Getting out of the car was the most humiliating moment of his life. His pants and underwear stuck to him uncomfortably, and all three of his children noticed the obvious stain. None of them said anything, just averted their eyes and pretended not to see it. No one spoke. That night, in bed, Smaug had brought a hand down and touched the padding around Bard's waist. "Maybe you should wear diapers on road trips, too," he muttered condescendingly. 

From then on out, their relationship soured. Smaug seemed to constantly belittle Bard, and that slowly escalated until he was hitting him, lightly slapping him at first, then hard enough to leave bruises. But that wasn't as bad as the things he said, the things Bard had always thought in the back of his mind, the things that seemed truer than all his ex-wife's sweet reassurances. Things he believed, things he agreed with.

"You're so lucky to have me," Smaug hissed at night. "Your wife would have left you eventually. Your children are embarrassed for you. You're so pathetic it's almost sad." In the mornings, he would mockingly ask Bard if he was dry, berate and beat him when he wasn't. He dreaded waking up at all, some nights.

Once, Bard almost cheated on him. He knew Smaug wasn't faithful, and he met the most gorgeous man he'd ever seen- tall, with long silver-blond hair and icy blue eyes. They were at a nature reserve, Bard by himself (the kids were in school), the other man with a boy who must have been his son. He introduced himself as Thranduil. "What are you doing here all alone?" Bard just shrugged. "Had the day off."

They ended up talking for hours, while Thranduil's son climbed every tree in the immediate vicinity and somehow befriended several wild animals. Bard discovered that Thranduil also had the day off, that he owned a flower shop, that his son was named Legolas, that Legolas was autistic, that Thranduil's wife had also passed away several years ago. They exchanged phone numbers before parting ways, and continued to get together frequently afterwards.

Bard tried not to think of Thranduil as anything but a friend, which was hard when he was so damn beautiful, but any time he wondered what it might feel like to kiss him, hold him, love him, Smaug's voice echoed in his mind. He was disgusting and weak and childish, and Thranduil would never want to be with him. How could he ask anyone to endure him, to put up with a grown man who still pissed himself every night?

He never told Smaug about Thranduil, and he told Thranduil as little about Smaug as he could get away with. Inevitably, though, his two lives collided, and it wasn't pretty. Smaug found Thranduil's contact in Bard's phone and demanded to meet him, throwing Bard to the floor in a fit of rage. Bain ran downstairs when he heard the shouting, and the ensuing fight involved Smaug screaming that Bard was a useless bitch, Bain furiously throwing anything within arm's reach at Smaug, and Bard trying unsuccessfully to calm both of them down.

Later that night, a very drunk Smaug went back through the message history to find Thranduil's address, and called an Uber to take him there. Bard begged him not to go, and eventually tried to physically stop him, but was shoved aside so violently his head slammed against the wall. After Smaug left, he tried to call Thranduil and explain the situation, but he was apparently asleep. 

However, while he could sleep through his phone ringing in another room, Thranduil definitely couldn't sleep through several minutes of furious pounding on his front door. As he made his way downstairs, he ran into Legolas, who was covering his ears and whining softly, clearly upset by the noise. He followed Thranduil to the door but stood back as it was opened, watching quietly. "Are you Thranduil Greenleaf?" The man at the door was very tall, very angry, and very drunk, so Thranduil wasn't sure how to answer. When the pause grew too long, the man snapped, "I know you are. I've seen your pictures in my husband's phone."

"You're Bard's husband, then," Thranduil said awkwardly. "Smaug, right?" The man's features twisted into a hideous, jealous mask. "Does he talk about me?" "Sometimes. Look, if you think we're involved, I promise it's nothing like that-" Before Thranduil knew what was happening, Smaug had punched him in the face, and then everyone was yelling. Smaug shouted that Thranduil was a filthy whore, Thranduil shouted back that he was insane, and Legolas screamed wordlessly behind them.

When he heard Legolas keening in terror, Thranduil made himself calm down enough to comfort his son. Smaug sneered at that. "Stay away from my husband, slut, do you understand me?" Thranduil ignored him, hugging Legolas tightly and rocking him back and forth. Neither of them noticed Smaug leaving.

Bard had been waiting up, anxious and unsure, but still jumped when the door was flung open. "You won't see him again," Smaug snarled. When Bard didn't answer, he grabbed the younger man's chin and forced him to make eye contact. "Do you understand? I blocked his number in your phone, and if you unblock it, there'll be hell to pay, alright? Am I clear?" "Yes," Bard whispered, and Smaug let him look away.

"You didn't tell me he has a retarded son," Smaug said rudely. Bard didn't rise to the bait, so Smaug tugged on his hair and whispered, "Does he know you piss the bed?" He smirked at the visible tensing in Bard's shoulders. "No," the younger man mumbled. "It never came up..." Smaug chuckled, deep in his chest. "You knew he'd walk away if you told. Or maybe his boy is the same way, huh? Did you think he'd take care of you like he does for that... that retard?" Bard clenched his fists. 

"No. I didn't. Don't say that about Legolas," he said quietly. "Oh, it has a name?" They sat in silence for an eternity before Bard mumbled that he was going to bed. "Do you need help getting into your diaper, baby?" Fighting back the shame that washed over him at those words, Bard shook his head and went back to their room, head lowered.

He never saw Thranduil again.

**Author's Note:**

> just wanted to write omorashi so if someone could explain wtf happened i'd appreciate that


End file.
